


save me from the ghosts and shadows before they eat my soul

by barboletta



Category: My Chemical Romance, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Crime AU, M/M, Other, mcr are side characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barboletta/pseuds/barboletta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like Dan imagined his life to be at twenty. He was an aspiring lawyer, (though he’d prefer actor, if everything were ideal). He was to have the life of a normal student, balancing partying, and studying--learning new things and meeting new people. He kind of does the latter part, but just not exactly how he’d expected.</p><p>or the one where Dan is a first-class thief, Phil isn't opposed to violence and they try to survive</p>
            </blockquote>





	save me from the ghosts and shadows before they eat my soul

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Phandom Big Bang 3.  
> Big thanks to people, who are at some point were my betaes Bennett(phantasticalities), Jamie (philosophicalphan),Bethany (realityisnoplacetolive), Angi (andfluorescentlights) and Gina(ginatheficster), especially the latter three who did the work in conditions of a time lack, in a day and saved this thing from death in my drafts.  
> A playlist was made by a precious virulester.  
> Also all my love to my squad leader, Courtney,howellsprincess, who put up with me, my irresponsibility and problems.  
> Thanks to Emma (lumierebleue) who isn't part of a phandom anymore, but is still my best friend who is always there for me.
> 
> Title from Mercy by Muse.

_There’s something off about the room. Everything is in the right place, clean and tidied, just as he’d asked Rosie for it to be. The curtains are drawn, the window is open (he can’t stand the humming noise the air conditioner makes), and the Monet painting--the one with the safe hidden behind it--is hanging perfectly straight. Everything seems alright, but something is off._

Maybe it’s just me, _he tells himself. He’s had a hard week, after all, with that deal and the slightly dirty money. He needs a rest. He heard Mallorca was nice. He might even take Rosie with him._

_He’s sitting down at the desk, placing the briefcase in front of him, when he hears the noise. He’s not all that familiar with it in real life, but he’s watched enough films and played enough first person shooters to recognise the clink-clank of a gun being charged. The front of its barrel is cold against his temple._

_“Hi there, Mr. McGrane.”_

_The voice is deep and so low it’s almost a whisper against his ear. His hand automatically reaches for the alarm, but the stranger is faster._

_“Oh no, dear Mr. McGrane. You know I have a sniper on you from the next building. If I were you, I wouldn’t move my hand another inch.”_

_He can feel the drops of sweat crawl down the side of his face. It feels hot and stuffy in the room, even though the window is open._

_“How do I know you’re not bluffing?” he manages, and the stranger chuckles._

_“Oh you guys never believe, do you? You always need to see the red dot.” The stranger leans back and clears his throat. “Phil, can you please show our dear Mr. Smith that I’m not bluffing?”_

_There’s a pause, and he can hear his heart beating in his ears. The mysterious Phil probably replies, and then the porcelain figurine on his table, some client’s present, explodes in pieces merely two inches from his left hand. He barely manages to get it out of the way in time._

_“See? No bluffing,” the stranger whispers in his ear. “Phil says sorry for the figurine. It was awful anyway. You definitely have no taste. Now, where were we?”_

_He swallows. He definitely needs a rest. If he is even alive by the end of it._

***

It’s not like Dan imagined his life to be at twenty. He was an aspiring lawyer, (though he’d prefer actor, if everything were ideal). He was to have the life of a normal student, balancing partying, and studying--learning new things and meeting new people. He kind of does the latter part, but just not exactly how he’d expected.

“Catch the bastard,” he hears behind himself. He recognises the voice. It’s Tory, the big guy--all muscles and almost no brain. Not exactly stupid, but definitely not creative. His fault.

Manchester is predictable. Maybe not in the centre, not for tourists, but Dan has spent the last two years here, mostly running and hiding. He knows how this city works. Tory doesn’t, and though he’s not alone, Dan manages to run away from the Kasadero boys.

He turns left, then right, then left again and through the tunnel on a crowded street. He’s not very discreet (fucking genes with their six-foot-two), but he at least manages to catch his breath. He follows the crowd, trying not to turn around and keeps calm. His hand goes to the bag and feels the packet. He doesn’t know what’s inside. The task was to bring the packet. He usually follows his tasks.

The stomping behind gets louder, as does Tory’s shouting. The crowd starts to part and Dan swears under his breath. Fuck the collective thinking.

He turns right into another small lane, less crowded but still with tourists. Those are good. Those mean that there will be no shooting – the gang doesn’t need the scandal, especially with the foreigners. Dan walks faster, avoiding the people going his way, when he hears Tory shout again and then he takes off running. Damn, this guy is hard to exhaust.

He runs for another two blocks ( _don’t turn around, don’t turn around_ ) because they’re closing in, probably having caught their breath too. He takes a swift turn left and stops in his tracks. Fuck.

The sign is big and somewhat shiny, with big words ‘ROAD WORK’ on it. The lane looks like a bomb landed there, no piece of it is safe for walking, let alone running. Dan looks up, and of course, not a single open window, not a single fire ladder. He turns around but the stomping is unbelievably close. Another second and there are Kasadero brothers right in front of him. Tory catches up with them three seconds later, face red and breathing uneven. Dan is so fucked.

“You’re one sneaky bitch, Howell,” he says panting and Dan takes a step back. It’s only three feet left till the sign. He’ll  probably hit against it.

“Can’t help it, Tory, you know how it is. I like the easy objects.”

“You are one yourself,” one of the Kasadero boys spits out. What was his name... John? Probably not, but who cares.

“Wouldn’t say so. Took you half an hour till you even spotted me.”

“The process doesn’t count. You have no place to run, Howell, and no one to rescue your ass. Give the packet back.”

Dan looks from one brother to another and then at Tory. Three beaters against one thief, the result is kinda too predictable. But he likes to cheat  fate. First he needs to win some time.

“I don’t know, Tory, it seems kind of important. And I was paid a considerable amount of money to bring it to my employer. New employer.”

“Give. The. Packet. Back,” Tory starts to raise his voice. Good. An angry fighter is a sloppy fighter. Maybe he will walk away from this with a couple of bruises and a broken limb, but at least alive.

“Tory, I do speak the English language. Got the highest mark on  my A-levels, actually. No need to  to slow down on my account.”

“For a smartie, you’re pretty dumb,” the other Kasadero says. They both start to move in on him and Dan takes another step back. The sign feels cold against his spine.

“Well, I’m far from you on this.”

There’s no plan. Dan will need to fight back--there’s no other choice. Lose the packet, lose the money, and lose the new employer. On the first task. He’s pathetic.

Dan clutches his fists and bends his knees. Two years on the streets weren’t for nothing; he knows how to hit and he’s not going to go down without a fight. He’s almost ready to punch first when they’re interrupted. Dan is a lucky bastard.

“Hey guys,” the voice says and Dan looks over from the Kasaderos. There’s a guy, tall like him and somewhat lanky. Dark leather jacket, white tank top, no visible signs of a gang. Not with them. Maybe he will help. Preferably Dan.

“Go away,” Tory groans, not turning around. The Kasaderos also watch Dan intently.

 _Don’t go away_ , Dan thinks, _don’t go away_. _Do something, fucking save me._

“That’s kind of impolite,” the guys says calmly, and Dan squints. He wants to see the face of a man who isn’t intimidated by Tory at all.

“I don’t care about polite. Go away,” Tory almost shouts and turns around. That’s his mistake.

The guy is swift with his punches, totally practised and knows what he does. One to the stomach, two to his ears, and kick to the knee and Tory is on the ground. One of the Kasaderos, the might-be-John, looks around and gets a fist in his nose and a kick to the stomach. The second one tries to jump Dan but he isn’t easy like that. He ducks from the first punch, hits the man in the ear and in the abdomen and then a knee to his nose. Adrenaline is awesome.

Dan looks up at the guy. He looks relaxed, not seeing a threat in Dan. Dan hopes it’s because he considers him an ally.

“I don’t like people being impolite,” the guy says simply, as if it’s the obvious reason to knock someone out. It’s not like Dan disapproves of his actions.

“They can be like that,” he manages all his wit suddenly gone. “Thank you. You saved my ass.”

“You’re welcome,” the guy holds his hand out. “Phil.”

“Dan.” He shakes the guy’s hand and smiles. His grandma said he had a charming smile. It might win him some points. “You work for Miles?”

“Alex, but that’s the same thing these days.”

Dan raises his eyebrows. The team he’s doing this for, his new employer, is Miles. They steal things and deliver them But Alex... Alex is serious. Alex is beatings and shootings; Alex is weapons and murder. Dan swallows. He hopes to not be Phil’s client.

Phil seems to see Dan’s face change and smiles. He has a wonderful smile, for a fucking killer.

“Don’t worry, Dan, you’re my mission, but not like that. We were meant to watch you, so you’d deliver the packet and yourself safe. Miles values you. And your skills.”

“Glad to know. Did I pass the test?”

“I don’t know.” Phil shrugs his shoulders. ”It’s not for me to judge. But you only have four blocks left till the place and Peter was supposed to take them” – he kicked Tory with the nose of his shoe –  “out when he noticed them, approximately ten minutes ago, so you more passed than not. Let’s go now.”

“What’s with them?”

“They will be taken care of. Let’s go.”

“Sure.”

It seems for Dan for a moment that there is no world outside that small lane. But when they come out, the world hasn’t collapsed.If anything it lives more actively now, with those tourists going out for dinner and to clubs. He doesn’t turn much, but analyses the situation surrounding him – a habit he acquired thanks to his job. Phil walks next to him, relaxed and calm, and Dan would never in his life think that he is  one who works with bloody stuff. He looks like fucking sunshine.

Dan is anxious to ask Phil more questions – about Miles and Alex and him and Dan’s fate – but these people, this new gang, is way more serious than the one he came from. He doesn’t want to give off a wrong impression. They walk for another five or seven minutes, still in the centre of Manchester, but the quiet part, the one that isn’t touched with nightlife and music. Phil stops right in the middle of the street it seems, but it takes Dan two seconds to notice a dark brown door. Phil does sort of a welcoming gesture and smiles once again. Dan proceeds to buzz the door but it seems unlocked and he enters.

The building is quite old – some mansion from the nineteenth – century but inside everything just screams modern. Gary and Tory and the rest of the guys would shit themselves if they saw it – they needed to base in an abandoned warehouse with sleeping bags and occasional rats. So much for the level up.

Phil guides him through the corridors, still quiet and smiling that friendly smile. Dan almost wants to believe that this guy is as innocent as a flower, but the memory of his cold blooded fighting still hasn’t faded. The corridors are mostly empty but well-lit nevertheless. The owner, Miles, doesn’t have to watch over every penny, it seems. Dan remembers the route – you never know when and how you need to escape. Be attentive or you’re done – first rule of the thief’s code.

They finally end up in a spacious room – Miles’s study, Dan figures out. It looks plain but stylish, white walls, black furniture, a large table, and a number of chairs. Miles sits behind the table, writing something, but looks up when Phil coughs to attract his attention. Miles glances up and smiles viciously, but surprisingly it doesn’t scare Dan at all. He’s seen much scarier guys;t’s hard to impress him.

“So,” Miles says, biting on his pencil, “you’re the Dan I was told about it. A young sneaky prodigy.”

“Don’t trust the rumours. They might give you a wrong impression,” Dan replies. With guys like this it’s vital not to show your fear. Not that Dan has any.

“Well you did prove yourself useful. The package you got is kinda important to our clients and you did the job cleaner that most of my guys could. Didn’t he, Phil?”

“Well there was a tail,” Phil says and Miles frowns instantly. “But they were taken care of. And they were given a hint. You had another rat, Miles.”

Dan lift his eyebrows questioningly.

“You didn’t tell me it was a rat. I thought they just figured it or something.”

“Well you didn’t ask,” Phil shrugs his shoulders. Miles scribbles something in his papers and then looks up again.

“Who was it?”

“Tim.”

Miles strikes something out from his list and lights a cigarette. The sight of it makes Dan want to smoke too but he’s sure he’ll hold off for another ten minutes.

“Was _he_ taken care of?” Miles ask, tipping the ash off into the small ashtray on the table.

“Yes. Alex said he would negotiate this with you, but just so you know I expect my pay by the end of this week.”

“Sure, Phil,” Miles smiles, “Always so attentive to details,” he says to Dan. “What about you, sweet boy? You still delivered the packet and managed to do it unnoticed. Or almost. Doesn’t matter by now. From my side everything is alright. You still in?”

“Yes,” Dan nods. “Yes, I’m still in.”

And that’s how his new life starts.

***

_Mr. McGrane’s study is like all studies Dan has had the chance to see. Boring, if he would need to describe it in one word. Tiresome. Grey. But maybe it was his two years in America speaking. He doesn’t know anymore._

_Mr. McGrane matches his study. He’s a businessman in his late forties, a wife, no kids – they checked that especially, they are not complete assholes – an affair on the side with a cute secretary, two degrees. Sometimes he closes his eyes on some deals and gets for it some money but not too much. Except for the one a month ago. With that one deal Mr. McGrane stopped being boring instantly. Ten million pounds in gold value tends to do that to people._

_So now Dan’s pressing his Glock at Mr. Smith’s temple, trying to coax him into a cooperation. God, what has his life become. You never know where you’ll end up._

_“Well, Mr. McGrane... Jerry - can I call you that? I will anyway. So Jerry,” Dan cleans his throat, “tell me please a very secret code to the that vault you have somewhere in central England.”_

_There’s no answer, and Dan even leans in to check whether the guy is conscious and alive, but yes, he’s fine, breathing deep and loud. Probably something he learned in his stress relieving classes or what corporate people like him do._

_“You see, my dear Jerry, we would gladly break into that vault and take those ten million pounds that would help us go and vanish. But you - you’re a smart guy, Jerry, I must give you that - you put in a safe. With a fucking voice recognition system. And no matter how fun it is to crack, it still is so_ tiring _and, you know, impossible. But we really want the money. So that’s how we find ourselves in this situation. You need just pronounce a simple word or two to the recorder and you won’t lose anything vital. So what, agreed?”_

_The coming silence annoys Dan. He’s not a loud kind of guy, he’s just… he’s used to people reacting. Say something, mutter under their breath, cry or swear. Silence means that the guy is even more boring than he thought._

_“Hey, hey, Jerry, you didn’t fall asleep there or something?” Dan presses the Glock harder to Mr. McGrane’s temple and there’s finally a sound._

_“What did you say?” Dan asks, leaning a bit in._

_“I said, I won’t do it, bastard.”_

_Dan just laughs._

***

Dan moves in with Phil three months after he starts working with Miles and Alex. The two gangs are tied even tighter than he had imagined and it’s usual that they all share places. Phil’s old roommate is gone - Dan really doesn’t want to know what happened to him - and Alex offers for them to share. Apparently, a place to live is a part of his contract. They don’t like it when members of the gang live in the districts they don’t have control over and to be quite honest Dan was tired of his old room in a dorm. So he says yes.

Living with Phil is the exact opposite of being lonely. Phil, seemingly calm and reserved in public, appears to be the chattiest person ever. He bursts with random pieces of knowledge here and there, talking about languages and animals and books he’s read. Dan is enchanted and scared of him at the same time. It amazes him how strange their situation is - Dan knows that Phil hates cheese and sparkling water with a passion, but doesn’t know when his birthday is. Or what he did for a living before. He knows the details and not the full picture and it gnaws at him and makes him die of curiosity. He feels for the poor cat.

Dan’s tasks haven’t changed - he still steals things, climbing in and out of rich houses and private galleries. Art always pays the best, even though he doesn’t understand most of it. He mainly works alone. Two or three times he’s accompanied by Chris, a nice guy, but a little clumsy in a bad way, and there are times when they do the breaking and entering with some of Alex’s guys, but never Phil.  Dan isn’t sure how he feels about that.

He’s surprised to realise one day that he enjoys his life. He does what he can do very well, he lives in a very good apartment and he has a good income - few have that at twenty. He gets his adrenaline dose every day, but it’s good and makes him forget many unpleasant things. He thinks he can actually start anew, with new friends and new memories and feelings. Sometimes he even forgets about the thoughts that haven’t left him for at least five years.

But some days are like today. Dan doesn't even recognise where these thoughts come from, what triggers them or how to cope with them. They flood his mind and make his hands shake and he just feels overwhelmed with so many things that he finds it hard even to breathe let alone take on jobs. On these days he stays at home, lying on a couch and watching dumb shows on cable. Phil says nothing to him - it feels like a part of their silent act. Dan doesn't ask Phil things and he does the same in return.

He rarely drinks on his worst days but Phil brought home a bottle of whisky and said that if Dan wants he can drink it and put it aside. Dan has never seen Phil drink something stronger than a beer, so the bottle is a surprise, but Dan never questions Phil's actions. He definitely knows what he does.

The first gulp is fire and Dan regrets it instantly, but then the warmness spreads across his body and he decides to keep going. After a third shot of pure whisky his head is lighter and he feels easier. He wishes he could be like that all the time, easy and light, not obliged to think about things at all, just exist in one moment and feel real. He leaves the bottle on the coffee table, empty glass next to it, and wraps himself in a blanket that Phil loves so much. He closes his eyes and just let's himself enjoy the moment.

Dan doesn't hear the front door open or Phil shuffling in with bags from Track or his knock on the door. He only opens his eyes when Phil flicks the light and lightly gasps 'Oh!'

“Did I forget a holiday or something?” Phil asks, and takes the bottle in his hand, examining it. “I hope I'm not interrupting something.”

“No, no,” Dan shakes his head and unwraps from his blanket cocoon. “No, I just felt like it. Sorry I didn't ask about, you know, the bottle.”

“It's alright,” Phil sits down next to him. The old couch squeaks a bit. “Want to tell me what's wrong? I know I'm little help, but I can surely listen.”

           “I don't know,” Dan says and wraps the blanket back. “I’ll... I’ll think about it.”

“Ok.” Phil gets up, and the couch gives another muffled cry. On the way out he puts out the light and the room is back to its soft shadows and one big yellow stripe from a street light. Dan looks at it and listens to the sound of Phil singing lightly as he shuffles around the kitchen. Dan's technically on cooking duty again, but he is far from hungry. He makes the promise to himself to get up and actually help Phil, but the warmth from the blanket and the whisky makes his eyes droop.

He wakes up to a plate of something fried on the table and Phil reading quietly, curled in the matching armchair, under a lamp Dan has never seen. Phil won't stop surprising him.

He stirs slightly and Phil raises his head. His expression goes from concentrated to smile.

“You slept an hour or so. Those are still warm.”

Dan mutters thanks and takes one thing off the plate, which appears to be a chip. Phil's right - it's still warm and tasty and Dan sits more comfortably. He eats in silence, not daring to look up at Phil. When the plate is more empty than full, he stops abruptly and looks up.

“I haven't left you anything, sorry.”

Phil smiles and places his book on the table.

“It's fine, I've already eaten. Come back so hungry I could eat an elephant.”

Dan chuckles.

“Sorry for this,” he says, wrapping the blanket tighter. “I didn't mean to fall asleep and make you cook.”

“Dan,” Phil sighs and gets up slightly in the armchair, “We all have our bad days. I understand, okay?”

Dan nods quietly. Phil gets up, collecting the plate, and heads for the kitchen. In the doorway he stops. “You want some tea? We still have some of those cookies from down the street.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dan looks around the room. He has no idea what time is it and it's not like he wants to know. The lamp bathes the room in warm yellow light, contrasting with black gapes of windows. Dan stares into the black nothingness, absent from all the thoughts. Whisky wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Dan doesn't register when Phil enters the room, so the sound of a cup against the table startles him. He looks up and meets Phil's smile. Dan smiles weakly in reply. Phil sits next to him on a couch, takes a cup from the table, climbing onto the couch, and pours the tea onto himself. He swears under his breath and Dan's smile gets wider.

“You should do it the other way round,” he says, muffling a laugh.

“Very smart people don't get cookies.”

Dan makes a face and takes a sip from his cup. Phil's the weirdest man - he can drink instant coffee but despises tea in bags. His tea skills, though, are impressive.

“It’s the camomile mix. Very calming. Not that you need it after three shots of whisky, but you can never be too relaxed.”

“Yeah, about that…” Dan mutters, but Phil just waves his hand.

“Forget it. You didn't do anything wrong, you aren't shit-faced, and didn't do anything stupid. Trust me, I’ve seen worse things people do when drunk then fall asleep and make their roommate cook.”

Dan falls silent. For a second Phil has this face he always has when he talks about his past, but the expression soon changes and he has that compassionate smile once again. He looks at Dan over his cup of tea, and Dan fights the urge to sit closer to him and place his head on Phil’s shoulder. In all his twenty years, he rarely saw someone smile so warmly towards him. He sighs and climbs onto the couch.

“You know, it’s actually pretty dumb,” he says and takes a sip from his cup. The camomile smells comforting. “It’s just… Do you get nervous before an extraordinary case? Like the ones that are really unusual and stuff?”

Phil keeps silent but places his cup on the table with a bang. Dan swears on the inside - he crossed the line, he made a mistake - but then Phil sighs and leans back on the couch. He doesn’t look at Dan when he replies.

“Well, it’s hard to surprise me, I’ve seen a lot, trust me. But it’s now. Before the…” he falls silent abruptly but continues, leaving Dan curious before _what_ … “In the beginning I was. Especially if I was in command, I was a bit worried over my people, over the result of my actions.” Phil turns his head, and Dan feels like an animal in a zoo under his gaze. On display with no defence and place to run. “Is it what bothers you?”

Dan stares into his cup and shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Phil says, still not looking at Dan, “I think it’s more or less personal. Of course everyone worries before something new, it’s normal, but the level of the worry... it’s different for everybody. Some can ignore it, like I do, and some are…” he pauses, looking for words. Dan fumbles with the mug’s handle. “Some are consumed by it. I knew a guy -  he was like that. They said he was borderline crazy, but he was just thinking too much. He just couldn’t help it.” Phil snickers softly, “You should have seen the pictures he drew. All blood and gore, but he always claimed it helped. Maybe you can do something to distract yourself?”

“It’s not like we have a piano,” Dan replies bitterly, and Phil shifts next to him.

“You play?”

“Used to. Back…uhm… before.”

“Cool. I wanna hear some day.”

The silence falls again, but it doesn’t feel so menacing. Phil picks up his cup again and takes a loud sip to which Dan snickers. He drinks the leftover tea in one go and places the cup back on the table. He sighs deeply and looks away from Phil, focusing on a plant in the corner of the room. Did they even have a plant?

“Well, the piano isn’t here, but… but you said I can tell and I know it’s stupid but maybe it will help for now. Miles gave me a new task, and it’s… it’s nothing new, it’s a bag of jewellery and valuable paper in a safe but...”  Dan falls silent and takes a deep breath. “But they’ll pay me like a thousand pounds. I’ll have a team who will cover for me, I’ll be in charge, people will see me work and what if something goes wrong? What if I fuck it all up and everyone will know? And it’s just… it’s so big of a case. A thousand - that’s fucking a lot. I don’t know.” Dan buries his head in his hands. He’s startled a bit when he feels Phil’s hand on his shoulder, but he doesn’t look up.

“Dan, you’re great. I’ve worked with Miles’ people and I know a talent when I see one. You’re good at what you do, really good. Bad doesn’t get a promotion in less than six months.” Dan lifts his head and is met by Phil’s warm smile. “And the money and people… The only advice I can give you is to do your work - do what you think is right. You have a fast mind, you’ll cope with any situation that can happen.”        

“You think so?”

“I told you, I’ve seen a lot. I can tell a talent when I see one. One day you’ll laugh at how nervous you were about a little one-grand job.”

“I don’t believe you.” Dan shakes his head, but Phil laughs.

“Nobody does. Their fault. My grandma was a psychic, I certainly inherited some of her mojo.”

Dan laughs, and pushes Phil softly, who pretends to be all offended. It seems easier and lighter to cope with things after he has spoken them out loud, but they’re still present at the the back of his head. _Maybe they will never leave_ , Dan thinks grimly, but then gets distracted by Phil kicking him in the shin.

“Get up, lazy-ass. I cooked, so you tidy up.”

After Dan’s masterfully skilled puppy-eyes, Phil ends  up tidying up anyway. Dan feels as if he’d never drunk those three shots, but in the morning his head wants to split open and he makes a promise to never drink when he’s hungry. And to buy flowers for Phil, who’d left aspirin and water on his bedside table.

In a week Dan gets his first one thousand pounds for a perfectly done case.

***

_Dan hates office chairs - all that leather and the wheels and so much larger than necessary. One can never tie a person to them properly, especially as big of a person as Mr. Mcgrane. Guest chairs, those are another case. He finishes his knot with a small tap on it and gets up from his knees._

_“Well, my dear Jerry, I'm not a big fan of violence and torture and all that stuff. But not being a fan doesn't make me a newbie, and I'm just warning you that if you want have your limbs intact ever again, please, cooperate.”_

_Dan places his Glock on the table and it looks surprisingly in place. Mr. McGrane is silent and seems to be trying to burn a hole in him with his stare. Dan just smiles and pulls off his black gloves._

_“Well, Jerry, it seems like you really don't value your health and well-being. Is ten million worth it?”_

_Dan cracks his knuckles when the earpiece comes to life._

_“Not the jaw. You break it, he can't speak.” Phil sounds a bit distant, but Dan knows he's watching from the abandoned office right opposite this room._

_“I'm not exactly new to this,” Dan replies, and he can see how Mr. McGrane shudders._

***

Dan hates February. It gets  dark late in Manchester, it’s cold and windy, people smile less, and the sky is almost always grey. This particular February he hates for having too much work.

And it’s not like he complains – he lives off a steady income, is a not-so-low member of a pretty powerful gang, has a flat and a roommate and can do whatever he wants. It’s just that working too much means having less time for himself and he’s scared he will get bored because of the amount of work and therefore use the only thing that makes him feel alive and breathing and needed.

Dan’s not the only one who works hard, though. Phil gets back late almost every night, around two or even three in the morning, and Dan pretends he doesn’t hear him grunt from the bathroom or doesn’t notice their new white towels stained with blood. He can’t say anything - he’s not in the position, they’re not that close. Phil lets him in, gradually, telling him bits of information – he was studying Linguistics at university, he is from around Manchester, he served somewhere in Africa. Those bits of information Dan cherishes as if they’re the most valuable books. He loves the mystery that is Phil, but he’d love to crack him, unveil him. Dan refuses to give the feeling a name, but he knows it’s already late to go back from it.

But despite these rare moments of intimacy and small details they share, Dan is still unsure whether Phil trusts him or even counts him as a friend. He is not sure that Phil even has friends. It seems they will never pass the point of polite friendliness and honesty you can only experience with a stranger. Dan likes to imagine how it could be if they were closer, not lovers even, but real friends. The kind that  can sleep in the same  bed without it being awkward because they’ve stayed up too late,  spending the whole night watching weird TV shows and discussing the problems of the universe.

So it takes him by surprise when there's knock on his door at two-thirty in the morning. He can't sleep. The pills he used a month ago have expired and he's focused on thinking over the next case, so he by no chance expects Phil wanting to talk to him when he comes back. There's a second knock and then a semi-loud thump against door follows and Dan jumps from his bed. Something is definitely wrong.

He opens the door to Phil sitting on the floor, leaning on the doorway. His eyes are closed, hair disheveled, clothes dirty and there's a little trail of blood in the hallway.

“Fuck,” Dan mutters under his breath. He falls on his knees, checks Phil's pulse - slow but stable, no vital things hurt - and slaps him on his cheek. Nothing. He does it again and then again, until Phil mutters something unintelligible and moves his head.

“Fuck,” Dan says again and gets up. He takes Phil under his armpits - for such a skinny dude he's still pretty heavy. Maybe it's the muscles - and pulls him towards bathroom. Phil keeps mumbling something, but so quiet that Dan barely hears the word ‘Don't’. Whoever did that to him probably had him drugged, which makes everything a shitload more difficult. What Dan thought about being bored? Fuck that.

The bathroom has a small step and Dan swears under his breath and prays Phil doesn't feel it. He pushes him up and sits him on a washing machine, leaning across the wall, and catches his breath. Phil's still out and the trail of blood in the hallway looks a bit vicious, but Dan doesn’t care. He takes off his shirt and sweatpants, thinking about pants for a second, but decides to leave them on. He turns to Phil, whose breath seems to have evened out and goes for his hoodie. It’s hard to undress an unconscious person, but it’s not like Dan had completely sober friends his whole life so he manages to do it quite skilfully. He goes for Phil’s pants too, but then decides against it.

It’s not that Dan has never imagined Phil’s body, but it’d definitely looked healthier than the sight before him now. His torso and abdomen are covered in large purple, almost black, bruises. There are even a few cuts. Dan turns Phil on his stomach and sighs with relief when he finds the source of the bleeding - another cut. Thank god they don't need to bring Phil to the hospital - Alex would flip out. He gets all mad when they need to contact officials for any reason.

Dan musters up all his strength and drags Phil into the shower. The water is lukewarm and Phil shivers instantly and squints. Dan counts it as a good sign and proceeds to wash away the blood and dirt from Phil's body. In any other circumstance, Dan's pretty sure he would be turned on. They both are mostly naked, in the shower, but he's so worried the only thing he can think about is to bring Phil to his senses.

Phil mumbles something which Dan can't hear him over the sound of the shower, but his body doesn't feel like dead weight anymore and Dan sees him holding onto the wall for support.

“You alright?”

The question escapes him before he can realise that asking that a heavily beat up person is pointless. Phil doesn't  notice, though. He breathes slow and deep and his eyes are closed but he doesn't look like dying any time soon, so Dan turns off the shower and leaves the stall. He finds the softest towel they have - of course a white one - and helps Phil out, drying him off.

“Let's get you to your room,” he says. It’s definitely easier to patch him up when he's horizontal. Phil leans on him heavily and they shuffle slowly to the room. Dan has rarely been in Phil's room, maybe two or three times, but in the late night it looks terrifying. Dan helps Phil onto the bed, propping him up on a pillow. Phil sighs heavily and Dan changes his mind about turning the light on. Phil lifts his hand and taps on the night table, muttering softly. Dan opens the first drawer, then second, and finds the first-aid kit. It's probably the largest he has ever seen, with various pills and at least four bottles of each.

“Should I help?” Dan asks quietly.

Phil nods. “Please.”

The cuts aren’t really serious, Dan figures after a closer examination, but that’s only those that are on Phil’s stomach. He puts the disinfectant on them, ignoring Phil’s hisses and then stops at a loss. There’s no way he can put this many bandages on him, but he has no idea what to do next.

“Look at the back-” Phil groans and takes a deep breath, “-then just bandage it altogether.”

Dan nods absentmindedly. He definitely should have taken that first-aid class they’d advised when he was still in school.

He helps Phil to turn on his stomach and barely stops himself from gasping loudly. The cut on the back is awful, to say the least.  Deep, that’s for sure, and also bleeding heavily. Dan bites his lip, closes his eyes for a second, and takes a deep breath. He needs to do it, needs to help Phil. Nobody else can. He takes the cloth and pours antiseptic on it, praying he is doing the right thing.

Dan falls asleep next to Phil, exhausted and barely dressed. He wakes up from Phil murmuring something in his sleep, something really angry, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain so Dan decides not to wake him up.

The sky outside is its usual grey without any indication if it’s morning or afternoon. Dan gets up quietly, trying not to wake Phil, but he just shifts a bit. Dan looks down the hallway and sighs to himself – there is a trail of dried blood on the floor and the smell, though faint, still lingers. He decides to clean up after a cup of coffee and breakfast. He definitely deserves a treat after this kind of night.

Phil doesn’t wake up until late evening, eight or nine. By then Dan has already cleaned up the hallway, the kitchen and the bathroom, cleaned off his door and started a load of laundry. He tries not to think about Phil’s wounds. The door to his room is closed shut, but Dan keeps coming back to it over and over. He feels like it has changed something, that now Phil’s had a bit of a revelation. Dan isn’t a nurse to put up with the mysteries and clean them up afterwards. He wants to know.

Dan checks up on Phil every two hours, but all he gets is quiet mumbling and sighs. He comes in to change the dressing for the wound but Phil doesn’t even stir when he rolls him around. Dan leaves aspirin and water on Phil's nightstand.

Phil wakes up around nine. Dan's reading in his room when he hears a glass being set down through the thin wall. He puts away his book and climbs off the bed. Phil seems to be reasonable enough to stay in bed, but Dan still needs to check.

The room is dark but Dan decides against the overhead light, turning on the bedside lamp instead. Phil squints but Dan pretends he hasn't noticed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and Phil opens one eye with a smirk.

“Like I was stabbed and then hit multiple times.”

“You were. Considering...”

“I know. It was a joke.”

“Not funny.”

Phil tries to sit up in the bed but he's apparently still suffering from the pain so he's left in between sitting and lying. They watch each other in silence and Dan's ready to leave already but Phil takes his hand and squeezes it.

“Thank you. If it weren't for you, I don't think…”

He doesn't continue but Dan knows what he's meant to say. He shakes his head.

“Anything for you.”

Phil smiles and turns his head towards the window. He doesn't let go of Dan's hand.

“I owe you one now,” he says and Dan can't help the smirk. Phil is either a very good actor or too naive. Dan’s already opened his mouth to say that he doesn't need it when a thought crosses his mind.

“I don't like remembering debts,” he says, “so I know how you can repay me.”

“That was quick.” Phil smiles but doesn't turn his head. “How can I help you?”

“No secrets,” Dan blurts out and Phil turns his head. His grip on Dan's hand is tighter.

“No secrets from each other,” Dan repeats. He's tempted to close his eyes but he doesn't. He stares at the lamp instead.

“It's... It's hard, Dan,” Phil almost whispers. “Some of my past, uhm, actions, they are--”

“I'm not talking about past. I'm talking about from now on. I wanna know where are you during the night, what is your job, what can I expect every day. I deserve to know what I save you from.”

There's a silence in the room, too thick, and Dan can hear the clock ticking. Dan hates that noise. He wants to come up with something to say but can't. Phil turns his head and squeezes Dan's hand.

“Look at me Dan,” he barely whispers, and Dan turns his head reluctantly. Phil's looking at him, his face calm, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You chose the wrong person, Dan. I'm not... I’m not suited for this.”

And Dan realises that it's him who is too naive. It's kind of hard to miss your roommate's crush if attentiveness is your most valuable skill.

“It's not exactly like I had a choice,” he whispers. Phil looks at him sternly, but then his features soften. Dan counts it as a small victory.

“Okay. No secrets it is.” He smiles softly, and Dan returns it.

“Good.” He gets up and heads out of the room. In the doorway he stops and turns to look at Phil.

“Also I wouldn't mind if you taught me how to take care of this. And probably how to do it too.” Dan fumbles with the door handle, not daring to look up.

“I thought you were against bodily harm. And I saw you - you can fight.”

Dan shakes his head.

“Not like that. I want to be able to hurt.”

“You will never hurt anybody,” Phil replies. “You’re too kind.”

They go to a low-beat gym anyway.

***

_Mr. McGrane is tougher than Dan has expected. It's not that he does something actually painful and torturous, he's not evil or masochistic - except for a few punches to very sensitive places - but by this time everything Dan heard were grunts. Usually white collars of this age were  more fragile._

_“So, my dear Jerry,” Dan turns his back to the chair and takes his Glock from the table. “I was pretty good to you. I'm not that kind to everybody but still.” Dan charges the gun and Mr.McGrane visibly tenses._

_“You know I can't kill you. Not exactly talkative, the dead guys. But. But. But it doesn't mean that I need the whole of you. So, my dear Jerry, what part of your body do you dislikethe most?”_

_Mr.McGrane squints his eyes and Dan smiles winningly. With a swift motion he puts out a miniature syringe and pushes it in Mcgrane's leg. He's so shocked he doesn't even shout and that's exactly what he needs. Nothing helps the drug to dissolve better than a body full of adrenaline._

_“Okay, sweetheart, you didn't expect me to shoot you, I'm not a savage.”_

_“Dan, careful, the door.“ Phil's voice buzzes in his ear set, and Dan turns around just in time, when the door opens. Dan swears inside his head._

_Behind the door stands a young girl, twenty odd probably, with a coffee in one hand and pack of documents in the other. She reads the document and steps inside. Dan has no time to hide. The only thing is left to do is improvise._

_“Sweet, can you please close the door?” He asks, and girl sharply raises her head. Her face changes, she's about to cry out, Dan knows, so he points the gun right at her._

_“A sound and I push the trigger, understood?”_

_The girl nods. The coffee cup in her hand is about break with how hard she's clutching it._

_“What's your name, sweet?”_

_“R-rosie.” she stutters, and Dan allows himself to smile._

_“Well, Rosie. I have a private meeting with your boss. It's very important, so I would really mind if somebody interrupts us. Do you follow?”_

_She nods, unsure, and then looks at Mr.McGrane in the chair. Her eyes widen but she says nothing._

_“Don't you worry, Rosie, he will be fine like in an hour or so, but you know, you should take care of that interruption thing. Don't let anyone in and you will get some pretty share on your bank account. Agreed?”_

_She nods again and then one more time. She doesn't look away from the gun and Dan puts it down._

_“So, Rosie, you can leave now, as if nothing has happened. Go along, sweet.”_

_She leaves the room swiftly. Dan turns to Mr.McGrane and smiles wickedly._

_“Well, my dear Jerry. Let's talk and see how that sodium thing worked.”_

_Dan can see how he tenses. The next second the room is full with the piercing noise of alarm._

***

What Dan notices recently is that everything goes too fast to notice. He's twenty-two, his twenty-third birthday looming on him, but he doesn't feel it. Time is like something existing outside from his inner circle, from his job, from Phil. From _them._

It’s still new,this whole relationship thing. He’s not even sure they are in actual relationship. Maybe it’s just maximum honesty pact, Phil is the first person Dan actually tells things and he’s older and all mysterious - he listens but never tells much - and Dan loves secrets. What Phil found in him is another question Dan never dares to ask neither himself, nor Phil. He’s afraid that he’s just a toy for him, a convenient body - it’s actually Phil who has made a first step in that way, coming  to his room late at night and kissing and touching him. Dan has never been against it, God, he wanted it, but he’s unsure. And it’s not exactly new to him, to be unsure, but he actually has started to forget how that feels. He doesn’t have the time or power to invest in feelings like this.

He’s working more these days, taking on some stray jobs not only from Miles but from Alex too - Phil taught him well, that’s for sure, and he’s the only one who Phil can actually accept as a backup on especially hard stuff. The rumours breed fast - it’s kind of strange that  gangs like these talk so much, they’re serious people or pretend to be after all - and at first Dan feels uncertain, he’s not sure how he should react, how Phil would react. But Phil says or does nothing different than before, and Dan relaxes. After all it’s their life. Who cares.

He looks at himself in the mirror before another mission. He’s barechested, hair all ruffled. He’s got a new scar down his clavicle - a man gone wild with a knife, two traces of gunshots on his right shoulder - they didn’t know he was left-handed. On his neck there is a hickey - Phil sometimes loses himself during their nights. His face has rounded in a good way, there are no  bags under his eyes - Phil makes him sleep as much as he can, makes him breakfast. If Dan hadn't seen him in a fight he would have thought he works in a pet shop with how caring and loving he can be.

The door behind him opens slowly and Dan tenses but then he sees Phil's sleepy face and smiles softly. Phil shuffles towards him, pushing his hair out of his face, ruffling it even more. He hugs Dan from behind and kisses his cheek. Dan’s smile grows wider.

"You're like a cat." He says to Phil as he noses Dan's neck "Should I pet you?"

Phil mumbles something against Dan's skin and he full on laughs. He looks back at them in the mirror as Phil raises his eyes and their glances lock.

"Not now." Phil repeats. "But maybe tomorrow."

"Deal."

"Now let me brush my teeth and wash my face so I  feel alive."

Dan shifts aside and Phil turns the water on. Dan watches him carefully - he knows Phil’s body by now, the curves of his shoulders, the smooth stomach, but he’s still mesmerised by his scars and the scratches that he left. Phil is bend over the sink, his spine showing up beneath the skin and Dan touches him softly. Phil doesn’t even flinch. Dan wonders if this is  what trust is. Speaking of it.

“I can’t stop thinking.” Dan says softly and Phil straights out. “I can’t stop thinking what would happen if Miles and Alex split.”

Phil frowns. Dan keeps his hand on his back, unmoving. He watches Phil’s face in the mirror without looking away, without hesitating. He’s proud of himself.

“That’s not exactly what one should think in the morning, being half naked with someone.”

Dan shrugs his shoulders.

“If it affects you so strongly why not. If they do, we will be on different sides.”

Phil turns to Dan and takes his face in his hands.

“Will we?”

Dan doesn’t know what to reply. He has worked for Miles for what feels like ages, and Phil has worked with Alex even longer. The conflict between them started off so fast nobody could really understand what exactly was happening, it’s just one day people frowned upon working with the other gang. Dan has never seen so much loyalty to someone who was just a boss, he never had it, but he was decent enough not to betray someone who gave him everything.

Phil stares in his eyes and Dan covers Phil’s hand with his.

“I don’t know.” He replies, almost too quiet to hear, but Phil chuckles and puts down his hands.

“We will think about that tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure thing, Scarlett.”

Phil smiles viciously at the words. Dan regrets the remark the second Phil starts tickling him.

“Stop, stop, stop!” He barely manages through the laugh. Phil stops and Dan stands close enough to see every little curve and wrinkle on his face. They will think about the what-ifs tomorrow. Dan opens his mouth and he almost says “I love you” when Phil’s lips find his. That’s a good way to say it too.

They spend the day being lazy and slow, enjoying every calm minute they got. Dan likes days like these, soft and warm, without  the haste or sharpness of their daily lives, even though today they are up for a job. Phil cooks pancakes, they eat in the living room, then fuck on the couch, then just lay cuddling under a big fuzzy blanket. They put on a film, then another one, make out while the news anchor tells about the situations in far away countries. A life of happy men.

Phil gets up around eight in the evening, without any word going for the shower. Dan rolls around, tucking the blanket around himself, but he knows that he should get up too. The thing they should clear up today is easy enough - another bunch of documents needs to be stolen from a very guarded house from a very protected safe - but it doesn’t mean that he can go on a case unprepared. He has seen enough people fail because of overconfidence.

Dan hears the water stop in the shower and sits up on the couch, still wrapped in a blanket. When Phil reenters the room, he doesn't even turn, just sighs loudly.

“Yes, your life is so hard.” Phil says with a smile and places a wet towel on Dan’s head. “Come on, move your ass or we will be late.”

Dan grunts in reply but gets up anyway. Phil’s already in his room, humming a song to himself, and Dan has nothing left than to go to the shower.

The preparations for the case have already become a routine - shower, dry hair, put on the darkest clothes. Then comes the weaponry: a vest holster with two Glocks for Dan - Phil prefers Berettas - and a knife, also Phil’s. Dan likes the calming sense of routineas they check the magazines and check the clothes. Also Phil looks amazing in black.

Their assigned driver, Theo or something, is already waiting outside and Phil frowns the second he sees the car, but when Dan is about to ask him what’s wrong, he just shakes his head. Whatever. Even if there are any problems they will deal. Not the first time after all.

Theo stops two blocks before their point. He mumbles something about waiting for them here and Phil just nods, saying nothing.

They walk in silence to the intersection where they should part - Dan goes inside the house, from the backyard and through the back door that the owners never close, Phil goes into the house right opposite whose tenants so conveniently are away on holiday. Dan already turns in his direction, when Phil grabs him by the arm.

“If anything, anything, makes you feel uneasy or strange - leave.”

Dan shakes his head. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Yet. But I’m pretty sure we would find out soon if something is.”

Dan nods and leans in to kiss Phil on the cheek. Phil’s smiles faintly but he’s still serious. He squeezes Dan’s arm once again and then leaves toward his house.

It’s not that Dan starts to worry about the whole thing, it’s just Phil’s too experienced for him not to believe his instincts. So he doublechecks everything on his way, the fence, the signalisation, the backyard. The door is slightly ajar and the first intention Dan has is to turn around and leave it on the whole, but he just blames it on the owner’s recklessness and goes inside.

The house is quiet - the owners have left for the annual charity ball or something, their child and dog over at the grandmother's. Dan's pretty sure there's nothing to worry about. He creeps upstairs, finds the master's door. It opens with a slight squeak and Dan cringes. The room is empty but the window is open and okay, that  tops the level of weirdness for a case like that. Fuck it, he doesn't want to get caught like a newbie. He makes a step back and bumps into something. _Someone._

It takes Dan three seconds to realize it but it's already too late, an elbow around his neck and pulling and it suddenly so hard to breathe that he wants to scream. Panic rushes through him and he wants to struggle but then there's buzz in his headset and Dan collects himself. He stumps on the person's foot and when they ease the hold, Dan manages to push his hand between their elbow and his neck and just pushes down. The person swears - a familiar voice, Dan thinks - and Dan manages to break free. A kick in the knee, the person kneels and then a kick in his chest, and the person falls face first.

"Dan, everything's fine?" Phil asks through the earset and Dan manages a short laugh.

"No, there was an ambush." He sits near the body and turns it over. He pulls the mask off, familiar voice, sure. "It's Theo."

"You clear?"

"With him? Yes. Not sure if completely."

Phil keeps silent and Dan looks around the room. There must be someone else, someone who opened the door and left the window open.

Dan pulls out his gun and steps carefully around the room. It's so quiet he can hear his heartbeat. He checks the sofa first, the desk, the cabinet in the far corner of the room, but finds nothing. Dan throws a glance at the open window. Curtains flow from a slight breeze, shining from the street light. The other probably escaped through the window, Dan thinks, and moves carefully towards it. The earset buzzes once again but there's no sound from Phil. Dan taps on it - exactly when you need them the most they don’t work. He leans towards the window and … Fuck.

Dan doesn’t know what shocks him more - the sound of police sirens or the brightness from car lights. He makes a step from the window, still squinting from sensory overload, and looks around. No one. Theo is still on the floor unconscious but he will come to soon and cause even more problems. Dan needs to get away and do it fast, preferably, with Phil.

He taps on the earset again and the white noise comes and okay, that’s definitely not good. The police officer outside starts talking in a megaphone - some bullshit about giving up and leaving the house, but Dan isn’t that easy. He almost leaves the room when he hears a mobile phone vibrating. That’s not his - Phil prohibited it right on the spot when he suggested it - and none of tenants are in, so it’s probably Theo’s. Dan kneels next to him, keeping eyes on his face. He finds the phone in Theo’s front pocket, with an unknown number on the screen. Well, it can’t get any worse. He answers the call but keeps quiet.

“Please tell me the cars are not around the target house.” Phil’s panting. Dan probably wasn’t the only one who was attacked.

“I’m sorry, but they are. Any backup plans?” Dan gets up and moves towards the backyard - there’s a slim chance the police officers have forgotten about it.

“Well, you need to get out of there. Then we will see.”

“Any suggestions?” Today’s definitely not Dan’s lucky day as he sees the police in the backyard. He hides in the corridor on the first floor, trying to avoid the windows. From experience he know s the police probably won’t come in for another five or seven minutes, so he has some time.

“Do you remember whether the neighbours on the left have a garage?”

“They do.” It’s a street full of semi-detached houses, they definitely have one.

“Try going away through the garage and then inside the next house.”

“Aren’t there any people in there?”

“Well, even if there are it’s your only chance. Try to be as quiet as you can. I’ll find us a car.”

Phil hangs up before Dan can say anything, so he just goes along with the plan.

Probably, it is his lucky day after all, because the first garage door isn’t locked. It only occurs to him that they might not have a door _between_ the garages, but he’s running out of time and it’s the best solution they have. There’s no door but there’s a pretty large vent window. That will do.

Dan’s already halfway inside the passage, when he hears police break down the front door. He tries to move as fast as he can, going through an air passage, but it takes him less than a minute to get to the other side, thanks to Phil and his training.

There's a car inside the second garage, and Dan swears under his breath. The cars outside are impossible to ignore, which means that whoever lives here is not only awake but alert. Dan kind of misses the time when his life was easy.

He tries the door and sneaks inside, trying to walk as quiet and careful as he can. There’s a staircase to the upper floor, and a turn towards kitchen and main. He creeps through the corridor, past the kitchen - the lights are off on the first floor,a small advantage - then the staircase to the second floor, and if he remembers correct, there should be a living room to his left. He stops right in front of  the door and takes a deep breath, when  he hears steps on the second floor and then a  door slam.

Dan moves as fast as lightning inside the dark room, towards the window, that's - thank god - open. The fence is mere metres away from it, but it's surrounded by some bushes. Dan just moves, further and faster. Two swift motions and he's out on the grass, running to the fence. He's tall enough to grab the top edge of the fence and pull himself up. He stops for a split second on top of the fence, takes a deep breath and jumps inside someone's garden. Dan runs across the backyard, bent over so they won't see him. At the second fence the phone vibrates again.

"Third house from the target, sold but not moved in. It's on the corner, I'm parked near the backyard door."

Dan doesn't even have the time to reply. Judging by the sounds, they still search the target house. Dan takes a deep breath and climbs the fence, pressing low to it. He's in all black and almost impossible to notice but if it occurs to a police officer to point his flash light in his direction he's fucked. A second and he's already down, running across another backyard to the side door - who even has those, seriously - and tries to open it, but it's locked, he kicks it and is finally on the street where Phil awaits him in the car. Dan moves automatically, jumps in the car and Phil drives off, so fast the tires screech.

They drive in silence for some time and Dan just stares ahead of him, breathing, but when he realises that they're going away from the city he clears his throat.

"That's not the road home." He says.

"Of course not. You don't think I'm that stupid."

Dan just nods. He can still hear the pulse beating in his ears, and it finally dawns on him what has happened. He takes a deep breath and releases it soundly. Phil throws a glance at him and gets back to watching the road.

"You sure you're fine?"

"Yes, yes. He couldn't do anything drastic."

"Okay."

They drive in silence but Dan just can’t calm down. He’s pretty sure his hands  are shaking

"Where are we going?" Dan asks. He opens the gloves compartment and takes out cigarettes. They rarely smoke now, but he feels like it will help.

“Friend.” Dan gives out a short laugh, and Phil continues. “She’s safe. We’ll stay overnight at hers and then flee.”

“You already have a place.” It’s not a question.

“It’s not the first time I was set up.”

Dan opens the window and lights a smoke. The cigarette feels a bit alien but calming at the same time.

“You wondered what would happen if they split.” Phil says, and Dan snorts.

“Remind me not to ask dumb questions anymore. It’s definitely the last time I'm so unprepared.”

“We’ll see.”

Dan just blows out smoke through the window.

***

_Dan acts fast. He closes the door, turns the lock, then moves the cabinet in front of the door. The siren keeps wailing, annoying the hell out of him, but first things first - they shouldn't take him here before he gets the fucking key, he is so close. If he can’t get away, then Phil can._

_“Tell me you didn’t expect her to listen to you.” His headset buzzes, and Dan can literally see Phil rolling his eyes._

_“Fuck you. Can  you do something to turn off the fucking sound?”_

_“Well, as you’re already at it you can do it manually. There are two speakers, one near the window, one over the door.”_

_Dan throws a glance at Mr. McGrane - he’s so terrified he might die of a heart attack - and then points his gun at the dynamic. Two shots, and the silence is almost deafening, though he can hear the wailing outside. Dan turns back to Mr.McGrane._

_“Dear Jerry, we kinda have no time now. Please, be faster and say the fucking phrase.”_

_Mr.McGrane just stares at him, eyes wide. Dan charges the gun and points it at his forehead._

_“Please, Jerry. Your sweet Rosie thought that she was a smartie - fine, not the hardest challenge I solved. But I don’t want to get stuck here all day, so come on.”_

_Mr.McGrane mumbles something, and Dan actually rolls his eyes._

_“Louder, Jerry, louder.”_

_“Grace Bridget Manning, 26th October 1989, Newcastle."_

_"Sentimental, huh? Don't look at me, you don't think I didn't research you?."_

_A quick blow to the head and Mr. McGrane is out. Dan rushes to the door, but he can already hear voices outside._

_"Any ideas?"_

_Phil is quiet, but Dan can hear his breathing. Phil's thinking._

_"Phil?"_

_"Give me a second, Dan."_

_"We don't have a fucking second, there's a squad outside this door and I only have two guns, 17 bullets each. I sure wanted the case to be clean but I also want to get out alive," Dan breathes heavily. He wants to break something, snap McGrane's neck, fire a whole magazine into him. Anything just to make the situation progress faster._

_"Dan? Dan?" Phil's voice is a bit distant in Dan's mind but he does an effort to focus just on it._

_"Dan, you hear me?"_

_"Yes. Yes, I do," Dan says and his voice feels alien, hoarse and strained._

_"Dan, I'll get you out. You know that. Just give me time."_

_"Okay," Dan barely whispers. The voices outside are loud, shouting something, but Dan ignores them. He looks around the room, judging what else he can use to block the way._

_"Dan, trust me. I will." Phil sounds calm, but Dan knows better._

_"I do."_

***

Dan hasn't been on a plane for ages. His last time was before his new life, before everything, with his mother and brother and he doesn't like to remember these times.

He sighs deeply and presses his forehead against the large window. The planes outside keep taking off and landing, people around him chat or sleep, and a couple of overactive kids play tag. The life goes on without noticing two criminals on the run.

"Pumpkin spice latte, extra large." Phil says and hands him a styrofoam cup. Dan nods and takes the cup in his hands. It's hot and smells like holiday. Dan wonders whether the coffee will taste different in another country.

Phil takes sip from his cup, and smiles at the playing children. A boy catches his glance and stops in his tracks, a girl bumps into him and laughs. Phil laughs too.

"A penny for your thoughts." He says without looking at Dan.

Dan opens his mouth and closes it, then shakes his head.

"No, nothing. Just memories."

Phil takes another sip and turns at Dan.

"I thought we had a no secret policy going on, didn't we?"

"It's truly nothing." Dan doesn't look up from his coffee. "Just... you know, last time I was in an airport I was with my family. Feels like it was in another life."

Phil says nothing, but places his hand on Dan's.

"Do you miss it?" Phil's almost a whisper with how quiet he is. Dan doesn’t reply and Phil doesn’t push him. Phils circles the lid of his cup with his pointer finger and looks at the people walking in front of them again.

“When I last was in an airport, I was convoyed.” He says and Dan looks up at him instantly. “You knew I was in the army, didn’t you?”

Dan just looks at Phil absently. He has never spoken to him about it, mentioned yes, but it was more of a hint than anything else. This, this was a full-on confession.

“Why convoyed?” Dan asks, trying not to be too eager.

“Let’s just say I did a very bad thing that influenced my line of working with Miles.”

It’s not that Dan has never thought about it. He’s built like this, curiosity eating from inside, he always wants to know everything, and there was something like this in his assumptions, but he never even dared to think that Phil could have done some serious. A very bad thing and Miles means a murder, that’s for sure. For the first time since he has met Phil Dan feels like he doesn’t want to know the details.

“Where are we going?” Dan asks instead. He takes a large gulp of his coffee and almost chokes on it. Phil passes him a tissue.

“You’ve seen the tickets.” Phil replies. He doesn’t look thrilled about talking about their pasts either.

“No, I mean after that. Where will we stay and stuff?”

“A friend will help us out.” Phil looks at Dan and smiles. Dan feels slightly uncomfortable.

“Shall I ask where you met them?” Dan asks, but Phil just shakes his head.

They finish their drinks just in time for a boarding call. Phil waves the children good-bye and a little boy blushes a little bit and hides behind his sister. Dan smiles at the picture.

They stand in the longest line ever and while Phil’s off buying candies for the flight, Dan looks at their documents. They are a work of art - Wirrow has outdone himself, that’s true - but it’s still kind of unsettling to be deprived of his own identity. Brian Joseph Powell - he has no idea how Wirrow comes up with such weird name combinations but it has a ring to it and is actually easy to remember. Dan doesn’t mind being Brian. Phil, on the other hand, did mind to be Walter.

Phil appears right before it’s their turn to give the boarding passes to an attendant.

“Hey, I just found the largest Haribo ever and good news - we won’t die of hunger on this flight.” He says and the attendant smiles.

“Yeah, we won’t die of hunger, but sure will of sugar overdose.” Dan mutters, but he smiles too.

The attendant gives them their documents back and looks them over. Dan feels really uncomfortable.

“Travelling with your friend? That should be an adventure.”

Phil takes Dan by his waist and presses him closer, brushing his lips against Dan’s cheek, “Honeymoon, actually.”

“Oh. Have a nice time then.” The attendant is a bit at a loss it seems, but she smiles wider and Dan replies with a nod.

“Was it necessary?” he asks when they’re going down the jet bridge.

“I don’t know.” Phil replies, all cheekiness vanished from his voice. Dan says nothing. Only now he’s realised how actually tired he is, they are. Running both from two former gangs and the national crime agency - not the best activity one can do for almost half year.

The flight will be long. Dan has no idea how he’s going to survive eight hours up in the air in a metal can and he's never been afraid of flyingbut this time he grabs the armrest so hard his knuckles go white. Phil closes his eyes and Dan fights the urge to wake him up. He doesn't want to be alone, not now.

Dan watches the houses and trees and people flyaway. He has never thought he'd be able to leave the homeland for long and here he is, running, saving himself.

When he turns to look away from the window Andy sits next to him and plays his PSP, FIFA again. He’s never tired of this game that Dan has never understood. The little humans on the screen celebrate the goal and Andy looks up at him.

“Hey, you scared or something? You look all white.”

Dan shakes his head and then looks behind Andy’s seat at the one in the aisle. Baggy jeans, worn out sweater and that bag with soft texture that he always liked. Dan isn't surprised.

“Dan, are you sure you’re fine? We can change the seats. I don’t want you to end up with a lifelong trauma cause of your stupid wish.”

Dan opens his mouth to say something but can’t, the voice not coming through. He tries to cough but with no result. Something is wrong but he doesn’t worry. He looks out of the window but now there’s no land, just endless water that seems to get closer with every second. They’re falling.

He grabs Andy’s hand but it’s cold and somewhat sticky. He turns his head and he knows instantly that Andy’s dead - his eyes are closed, he looks asleep but Dan knows, he knows…

He wakes up with a gasp to Phil shaking him and whispering something calming. His heart beats far too fast and he struggles to breathe regularly. Everything is unfocused, and Dan’s at a loss until somebody - Phil - presses the plastic cup with water to his mouth.

“Small sips, count to three after each.” Phil says, but Dan doesn’t understand. He still sees Andy’s face in front of him, lifeless.

“It’s just a dream.” Phil says. “It’s just a dream, Dan.”

He actually helps him to drink water and Dan feels more or less calm afterwards. Phil looks nervous, even more now, but he says nothing. He offers Dan another cup of water and Dan takes it in his hand, but doesn’t drink.

“Can I ask what was it about?” Phil asks, and Dan looks away. They are above the ocean now, but he can’t see the water itself, just the vast blackness. Night flights and all that.

“My brother.” Dan replies. “I saw him die.”

“Is he younger?” Phil asks and Dan tries to remember whether he actually told Phil about his family. Phil probably knows the facts, he always likes to be informed.

“Yes.” Dan takes and his throat feels easier. “He’s six years younger. Must be sixteen already.”

Phil pauses for a second and then presses the attendant call. Dan doesn’t question him when Phil asks for two whisky. When they bring it to them, Phil passes one to Dan. Phil makes a sip.

“I’m a younger brother, too.” Phil says without looking up. “Martyn is thirty three.”

“Do you talk? I mean, does he...you know...does he know about you?”

Phil finishes the shot in one go and places the cup on a table, but not letting go of it.

“No.”

They are both quiet for a moment and Dan feels like he needs to say something but he doesn’t know what or how. He takes a sip of his own whisky and frowns - he didn’t expect it to be that strong.

“No, he doesn’t.” Phil continues, and Dan turns to look at him. “My family, they think… they think I’m dead.”

Dan blinks and looks at Phil more attentively. He stares in one point in front of him, poor plastic crashed in his hand. His lips are thin and he looks like he might attack at any given point. Dan has rarely seen him like that.

“It was my decision. They…” Phil swallows. “They didn’t know about anything that happened, why I was in the court. For them I died in a failed attack.They are safer this way.”

“What...What did really happen?”

Phil looks down for a second, as if remembering that he’s already finished his whisky.

“Not here. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”

Dan stays quiet for a moment and then finishes his whisky too.

“I ran away. From home.” He says and Phil smiles with the corners of his lips.

“I know. I did my homework.”

They sit in silence for what feels like eternity. The plane is quiet and most of the passengers are asleep or trying to be, all the lights are turned off and it seems like they are existing apart from everything else, apart from crimes they committed, from people after them, from their families. Dan reaches out to Phil’s hand and takes it in his. Fuck the past.

“Do you miss them?” Phil whispers in Dan’s ear and squeezes his hand.

“I… I don’t miss them. I think I’m curious. What my mum told Andy. How he copes with, how he is. If I miss someone it’s him, but we never were really close or something.”

Phil sighs and Dan feels him move.

“I miss mine. They were always there for me, always, and then I did this to them, and they suffered, I know. I saw. But I can’t go back anymore.”

“You did the right thing, Phil.”

“Sleep, Dan. We need the rest we can get.”

“Will you wake me up if I..have another nightmare?”

“Sure. Trust me.”

“I will.”

Dan closes his eyes and places his head on Phil’s shoulder. He feels calmer, because of whisky or Phil, but he falls asleep almost instantly.

He wakes up when the plane is twenty minutes away from landing. His neck hurts a bit but he cracks it and feels better. Phil is putting away his book in his backpack.

“Did you get to sleep at all?” Dan asks and Phil just waves his hand.

They pass the customs quickly, get the luggage - one piece for both - and head for the exit. Dan looks through the crowd, trying to guess who will meet them and focusing on every shield people are holding but Phil just moves straight ahead to the rent-a-car booth.

“Hi, how can I help you?” A consultant asks, and Phil gives one of his most charming smiles.

“Hello, I have a car booked, number 7-03.”

The guy clicks something in his computer and looks at Phil again.

“Mr. Walter Kelly, right? Can I please check your ID?”

“Sure.” Phil proceeds an ID card from his wallet, and Dan starts to feel a bit nervous. Maybe it’s just tiredness getting to his head.

“Everything’s fine, Mr.Kelly. The car is on the parking lot, black Subaru. Welcome to New York.”

“Thanks.”

Phil moves swiftly through the airport as if he has been here many times. In the car park they find the car and sit down, Phil doesn’t even offer Dan to drive, but shakes his head when he goes to the passenger door.

“First, they drive on the other side of the road. It’s the driver’s door. Second - you drive in the backseat. Don’t ask.”

Dan decides that it’s easier to follow Phil’s instructions than to argue and after putting their luggage in the trunk, he sits in the back.

“We’ll pick up someone else on our way.” Phil says, adjusting the rearview mirror. Their glances meet in the reflection.

“Who’s that?”

“A friend.”

Phil turns on the navigator and enters the address which Dan can’t even register. They drive in silence - Phil never listens to radio while driving - after an hour and half they start to move slower. Dan looks out of the window - they’re in a weird area, some half-abandoned warehouses and almost no people. Dan starts to feel really nervous.

They stop near another warehouse, but Phil doesn’t stop the engine. The passenger door opens and a man enters the car. He’s wearing a coat with high collar and Dan doesn’t see his face, but he sees his bright blonde hair in a quiff.

“Long time no see, Phil, good to see you safe.” The man turns around and holds out his hand to Dan. “Nice to meet you, I’m Mikey, Phil’s friend, Gee’s brother.”

“He doesn’t know Gee yet.” Phil says, and Dan can hear him smile. Dan feels uncomfortable, like he isn’t part of a secret, but he still shakes Mikey’s hand.

“Don’t worry, Dan, you’ll like him.”

Dan just nods. Whatever happens, he still trusts Phil.

***

_Dan listens carefully to what happens outside the door. The voices are quiet and overlap so he can’t understand a thing. The only thing he knows that there are far more people than he can escape from._

_“There are twelve people, all armed.” Phil confirms his thoughts. Phil has found a way to hook up to  the CCTV._

_“Any civilians?”_

_“No, pretty Rosie isn’t there. Mostly police and guards. I think they expect a more serious back up.”_

_Dan turns to look at the window. He wonders whether he can see Phil from here._

_“Any ideas how to get me out of here?”_

_“The air-conditioning system is too narrow, you won’t fit.”_

_“And of course the window cleaner is late.”_

_Phil gives out a short laugh, “No, it’s scheduled for tomorrow.”_

_Dan is about to reply when there’s banging on the door and loud shouting. Dan leans on the wall next to the cabinet and hits the door with the back of his gun. There’s silence for a moment and then the words come._

_“Open up, it’s police.” Dan frowns. They don’t use a megaphone, which means the walls are not too thick._

_“Why would I want to do that?” He shouts in reply._

_“A deal.” It sounds more like a question than a proposition and Dan gives out a laugh._

_“You hear that?” He asks quietly. There’s buzzing in his ear again._

_“Stall for time.” Phil’s clearly working in something._

_“A deal?” Dan shouts. “What kind of a deal?”_

_“You come out and yield and your prison sentence will be reduced for coworking with the police.”_

_“Free or bound, what is my choice really.” Dan mutters to himself._

_“You cannot escape the room free, you know?” Phil asks absent and Dan laughs._

_“I know a person who would say that you don’t believe in an outstanding creativity of every human being.”_

***

Dan has troubles with settling in. He won’t admitit, not to Phil, not to anyone, but keeps bugging him all the time they live with the guys. The fact that they live with the guys is one of the factors for his unsettlement.

And it’s not that they aren’t great. They are all cool, even too cool, and there are moments when he doubts that he can compete with them. On the other side, he isn’t sure he should compete with them at all.

The police calls them by numbers, fellow gangs call them the Way team and they themselves don’t call them anything. Gerard says it’s too arrogant to come up with a name for the gang even though Mikey told Dan that his brother had a list of names that he crossed out for a very, very long time.

Dan doesn’t want to admit it but he’s scared by them. Scared by Frank’s aggressive look, by Mikey’s absent face, by Gerard’s unpredictability, even by Ray’s openness.They are Phil’s friends, long ones and Dan knows what kind of friends Phil has - they usually are pretty good with at least four kinds of weapons and can kill you in your sleep. So Dan tries to be on good behaviour, he feels like he’s a new guy in school and tries a bit too hard so everyone will like him. He kniws better than anyone that it doesn’t work like that and that this kind of behaviour attracts bullies but he can’t help it. Maybe it’s a defence mechanism. Whatever, it doesn’t change the reality.

Surprisingly enough the first one to break the ice is Frank. He looks like he’s almost half Dan’s height but he’s all covered in tattoos and Dan has learned not to trust people with butterfly knives the hard way. But when the jet lag finally passes and Dan feels comfortable enough to wander the house at night - Phil here sleeps better, deeper, and Dan’s actually jealous of it, too - it’s Frank who he finds downstairs in the living room, watching some blockbuster with explosions and shootings.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks without even looking up and Dan has nothing better then sit down on the other side of the sofa and watch the movie with him. Frank shares the popcorn without a word, and Dan hesitates at first, but then Frank nudges the bowl closer to him and Dan helps himself.

“Insomniac or just a new place?” Frank asks.

“Insomniac.” Dan replies and squints. He actually doesn’t know for sure but he has always had trouble sleeping. Why not give it a name.

“That sucks, dude. You’re welcome to join the club then.”

And that’s how he finds himself in the living room sometimes late night, chatting with Frank and watching both modern and classic movies.

With Ray it’s harder - they don’t have any visible points of touch, Dan has never been interested in mechanics and their music taste is completely different but somehow Ray turns out to be the most enthusiastic driving teacher ever. Dan has barely passed the exam back home, where cars moved on the right, left side of the road and you only had two pedals, but Ray says he’s making progress and Dan’s okay with that.

Ray drives him around the polygon outside New Jersey and sometimes Phil joins them, laughing at Dan swearing and mixing up pedals again. Once when Dan finally loses his temper and challenges Phil to try himself, Phil just shrugs his shoulders, sits behind the wheel and fucking slays it. Dan can feel his jaw drop, when Ray laughs next to him.

“You don’t think that Phil spent half a year with us and didn’t learn to drive.”

“He said he passed the driving test only on seventh time,” Dan says, and Ray smiles. God, this guy can light up a country with this smile.

“Well, it’s one thing to pass an exam and another to be able to run away from the cops.”

Dan doesn’t know about running away from the cops. But he knows that he definitely enjoys driving more.

He barely sees Mikey, only in the mornings when they all come down for a coffee and breakfast and Mikey is all groggy. Sometimes he sits with them and Frank late in the night, but mostly he’s either in his computer up in his room or out with his girlfriend, a petite woman who is all smiles and gestures. Dan’s nervous around Mikey, he thinks they’re so far apart, but then they spent the whole evening and most of the night talking, from music to life to films and books and Dan realises that there has never been any ice to break at all.

And then there’s Gerard. When Dan saw him, almost a month ago, he was shocked and amazed. Red hair and pale skin, round glasses, large parka - the guy looked strange but somehow impressive and Dan got that weird feeling when he wanted to be the guy or at least be as cool as him. When the car stopped Phil rushed to hug him and it felt so intimate and private that Dan, for the first time in his time with Phil, felt himself alien in his presence. And even though Phil introduced him as his Dan, he still felt jealousy wash over him every time he saw Phil with Gerard. And he saw them a lot - talking, laughing, smoking, discussing things, remembering things. Dan knows, knows that Phil’d never but sometimes, just sometimes he feels like shit and it’s too easy to believe that they have something going on.

Dan keeps avoiding Gerard and he counts it as a win when in the whole month they barely have two conversations about breakfast and one about a broken shower. Phil doesn’t ask him about it but he clearly wants to - Dan can recognise the signs , but he just tries not to meet Gerard as much as possible.

Gerard clearly doesn’t get the message.

It’s been about a month and a half, when the guys start to discuss business in Dan and Phil’s presence. Dan has noticed them vanishing once in a while, usually in pairs, but they’ve never stated what exactly they’re doing and even if they did - Dan really doubts they’d find a place for a thief in their gang. But then Ray starts to teach him different stuff about cars and how to start them without keys, how to check there’s no alarm and Dan realises that it’s all is a silent invitation to join the gang. He doesn’t think he has a reason to decline.

He doesn't do cases, he doesn't want to. He feels unsafe in a foreign country with people whom he didn't completely figure out yet. Dan's used to work alone or with Phil, but he isn't ready to let anyone in his circle of trust. So he doesn't take part in the discussions of the next case, he just sits outside at a porch, cuddled in his warm coat and scarf. He s never expected Jersey to be that cold.

The door behind him opens, but Dan doesn't even turn. It's probably Phil, who is to call him for dinner, or Frank, who smokes outside every evening like clock. The steps are too soft for either of them, and Dan is about to turn around, when the person takes another chair and moves it closer to Dan's.

"You should be careful with the weather here." Gerard says. "Easy to catch a cold. Frankie usually spends most of January sniffing and coughing."

Dan just grunts in reply. It's so quiet he can hear the lighter and then cigarette burning. A cloud of smoke flows in Dan's direction, but he does nothing.

"Dan." Gerard speaks again. "Is everything okay?"

Dan hesitates for a second.

"Yeah." He mutters and his voice feels just a little bit hoarse. Maybe Gerard was right about getting a cold.

"Phil is really worried about you." Gerard says and Dan turns his head to look at him. Gerard stares straight ahead,his face emotionless. "He has the reason, you know."

Dan sits in silence. The possible replies flood his head, he can say anything he wants right now, from a witty comeback to an honest truth, but he doesn't know what to choose.

"Dan." Gerard says again, "Are you jealous of Phil and me?"

Dan doesn't know. He doesn't know, he doesn't want to know, he just wants no questions and peace. Go away, he thinks, go away and leave me alone.

"Because you shouldn't be, you know. I would never do that, neither to Phil, nor to Frankie. You should know that."

Dan looks at Gerard again. He looks like a bright bird in his yellow puffy coat. Dan smiles lightly.

"He cares a lot about you. He talks a lot about you." Gerard lights another cigarette. "You're good influence on him."

"He never mentioned you." Dan says, and it comes out a bit accusingly.

Gerard gives out a small laugh. "Safety first. We're not exactly playing in a sandpit. Frank only knows about Phil because he lived with us."

They sit in silence for some time, Gerard smoking and Dan just watching the smoke flowing.

“How did you meet?” Dan asks, and Gerard turns to look at him. He smiles with the corner of his smile, and it’s like Dan can see him change.

“In prison. He was my cellmate. Not the best place to make friends, especially when you try to be sober after a very long history of drinking and drugs, but Phil… Don’t know what came to him, but he basically saved my life a lot of times.”

“How...how did he get there?”

Gerard shakes his head. “Not my story to tell.”

Dan shrugs. The cold starts getting to him and he finally realises that he can’t feel the toes. Gerard flicks the cigarette into the yard, and stands up. “Come in, you’ll freeze your balls off. I know someone who would be really against that.”

Dan laughs and bumps into Gerard, standing up.

“I can make Mikey brew you some coffee.” Gerard says but Dan shakes his head no.

“I want to get some sleep.”

He follows Gerard to the kitchen and sits down in the chair. From the living rom he can hear the TV going and voices - Phil and Ray, it seems. Gerard does something with coffee machine and then turns the kettle on. He rummages through the cabinets, looking for something, but Dan says nothing - he knows better than to interrupt him. Gerard hums something under his breath and Dan smiles.

After some time Gerard, a cup of coffee already in his hands, places something really nice smelling in front of him.

“Drink, it’s herbs. They will help you sleep.” Gerard says slipping into another chair.

“Did Phil tell you that too?” Dan asks, sipping from the cup. It does actually taste pretty nice and warms him all over.

“No, Frank did.”

They drink in silence, watching each other. Gerard sits weirdly, hugging his knee, but every time their glances meet he smiles. If Dan hasn’t known the details, he would have thought that Gerard is flirting with him.

When Dan’s finished with his tea, he puts the mug into dishwasher and is about to head to his room, Gerard stands up too.

“And Dan. Next time come to the meeting. I can’t make you. But we need every head we have to come up with something creative.”

Dan raises his eyebrow. “Creative?”  
“Well, of course! Even if you steal cars and rob banks for a living, it doesn’t mean you can’t make art out of it.”

Dan shakes his head, when Gerard exclaims. “What?”

“I think you overromanticize it.” Dan says. Gerard comes up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“If we wouldn’t we all would be in deep shit already.” Gerard says and goes into the living room.

***

_Dan listens carefully to the sounds outside the door but can’t hear anything. He looks around the room and swears - there’s no way he can hold out here for longer than an hour but by then they would bring another two or three squads and his chances would be close to zero._

_“So.” He says, “How many of them are there?”_

_“Five in the front room, ten in the back. Then you’d need to go almost 89 floors, pass the remaining guards and then come out in the street full of police cars.”_

_Dan chuckles. “I never liked it easy.”_

_“Good news though - there’s another lift shaft. It’s further along the floor, and the lift works. On the first floor there’s a utility room which has an escape through the loading department.”_

_“I still need to pass the room with the police.”_

_“Well, you didn’t want a deal and you have 34 bullets. Enough to get through.”_

_Dan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath._

_“I won’t kill anyone. That would put my bail through the roof.”_

_“You don’t need to. For some people, being scared is enough.”_

_Dan moves the cabinet as quietly as he can, then the table. They probably watch the door which means they will see the doorknob moving - no element of surprise. But he can use the cameras to his advantage._

_“Where are they?”_

_“Two right across the door, one in the right corner, one behind the table.”_

_“Wait for me on the other side.”_

_He can hear Phil chuckle._

_“You kidding? No way I’ll miss this performance.”_

_Dan opens the door slowly and moves forward, his gun ready._

***

Working with the Way team is like a promotion. Their turn-around is way bigger, the technology they use is more advanced and they just feel professional, no matter how much they like afternoon cartoons.

Dan doesn't realise this at first, but they're kinda famous and powerful. They all go to a car fair - a gathering of different gangs that race against each other and make deals, who knew that Fast &Furious was partly true, and people actually whisper behind their back. People smile at Gerard and talk to him to polite and friendly and that, Dan knows, it's not a usual behavior.

Later Dan asks Phil about it and Phil smiles.

“They're the best in their sphere. There are plenty of car stealers here, but if you want the job done fast and clean you go to him. Their name is like a key to every door in here.”

Dan doesn't like the keys to the door handed to him. He's used to breaking in.

So he works separately, mostly. Odd jobs of breaking and entering, sometimes stealing really important documents from impressive offices, sometimes jewelry from pompous houses. They have spent three month in Jersey when someone contacts him through third hands and asks for a job and that what they mean by making a name for himself.

When the information leaks that he does in fact live with one of the biggest mobs on the East Coast, he gets really popular all of a sudden. Different people contact him and after a week he begs Mikey to block all his channels because it's fucking impossible. Since that he takes the cases from Mikey only.

They take him on a few cases, for distraction mostly or for lookout. He watches Gerard closely, how he guides the car, a barely agile Porsche Cayenne through the narrowest streets and turns of New York and he's amazed. Frank usually prefers sport cars, bright colours and smooth lines, and mostly it's an easy job - three to four turns, then a large truck trailer and it's done but sometimes he puts on a show and races through the highway, so you can barely notice the car when it drives past you.

He never sees Phil drive or steal a car. They don't talk about it but deep inside Dan knows it's not what Phil prefers to do even though he can do it well. From time to time they go on a case together but it's a lot easier to rob alone than in pair, so Phil slowly grows angrier and angrier until one day he just snaps at Dan for using up the cold water a and Dan knows instantly that they should find something that can let Phil's anger out.

The solution comes when he least expects it, as usual, but nobody is really happy about it. The situation changes again and the power shifts from gang to another. They all know there's no way to avoid the wars if they want to stay independent but no one says a thing about. Mikey gets engaged, Ray celebrates(Christa, his wife, has spent last couple of years observing cats in Norway and Ray misses her so much Dan barely keeps himself from awing)- they all ignore the fact that one wrong step and they might lose everything, let alone their lives.

September comes and goes, and Dan is surprised to realises that his second year in America starts. He looks at himself in the mirror and barely recognise in the reflection him before the run. He lost weight, the blackness under his eyes has visibly improved, his sides are shaved. He's sure to have a bit more scars: trace of a bullet on his left shoulder (an owner came back too early), three cuts on his abdomen (an argument at the car fair gone bad), a burn on his leg (don't trust the appliances that undergone Ray's modification). Phil comes up to him from behind as Dan stares at his reflection's eyes and hugs him.

“You're beautiful, you know?” he whispers in Dan's ear and Dan smiles at the ticklish feeling.

“I do, actually,” he replies and Phil smiles into his neck.

First encounters with enemy gangs start to happen in April, around Gee's birthday, but the firs big confrontation is only in December. Their house is on the outskirts of Belleville, so it's easy to notice something wrong, but they manage to miss all the signs. They are caught unawares, when three cars park in front of the house and turn on alarms. Frank and Ray are in the living room when they come up to a window to look out and that's when shooting starts. They dive instantly, covering their head.

“M16,” Frank shouts at Ray, and he nods.

“They should reload right about now,” Ray says and there's a silent pause.

They get up instantly, running inside the house. Dan meets them walking out of the bedroom, he barely registers what happens when Frank grabs him by the hand and leads inside. They stop at Gee's studio, a distant room, windows to the field and part of the road. Gerard looks startled when they come through, but takes himself in hand quickly. Both him and Frank move towards a large closet. Dan can't help whistling - there's a fucking weaponry inside.

Frank and Dan take Beretta submachine guns when Ray takes a M16. Gerard fumbles with his Walter.

“Where are Phil and Mikey?” he asks as he works the slide.

"The Paulson case. Won't be back in another three-four hours," Dan replies, not looking at him.

“Okay,” Frank says when he notices that Gee is ready. “Let's show these fuckers out.”

It's silent outside but Dan knows better than to trust it. He and Frank come up to the windows of the living room. Ray and Gerard are upstairs, watching the yard from the upper window.

Dan looks closer at Frank. He's breathing heavy, the hems of his short are bloody - pieces of glass did hurt him after all. He presses so hard against the wall it seems he can seep through it if he pushes a bit harder.

“Are you alright?” Dan asks quietly and ranks turns to him, smiling a bit crazy.

“Yah, I'm fine. Just want to fucking show them what attacking us means.”

He peeks through the curtain and mouths, “nine”.

Frank holds up his hand and counts on fingers. One, Dan charges his Beretta, two, he takes it more comfortable in his hand, three, he and Frank stand right against the windows and start shooting.

Dan doesn't exactly aim to kill but he's pretty sure that he hurt at least three people. The shootout stops as abruptly as started when one of the mobs on Frank's side shrieks and falls face first. Dan can hear Frank utter, “Fuck.”

The other gang leaves in mere seconds, never mind that Dan and Frank definitely wounded most of them. They take the body with them and Dan feels strangely grateful. He isn't a big fan of dead people, especially when they can and will be avenged.

He can hear Gee run downstairs and enter the door. He's actually surprised the door is still on its handles.

“Who?” he breathes out, and for the first time Dan's scared of Gerard. Frank silently raises his hand. The gesture seems is really out of place, but Dan kinda gets it.

“If it wasn't you…” Gerard takes a deep breath. Dan doesn't want to be in the room anymore.

“Oh come on, Gee. You know perfectly well that you would nothing to either of us. ”

Gerard just brushes his hand through the hair. Behind him Ray comes up.

“You know who that was?” he asks in a casual voice and Dan really doesn't want to know. Something tells him those will be not good news.

“Mitchell's people. We just challenged a fucking Carleone.”

“Not us. Me, I…” Frank starts, but Gee cuts him off.

“Don't play a scapegoat, Frankie. Gang is a gang; we should deal with that shit together," he turns to Dan, “Call up Mikey and Phil, they can be in danger right now. If they aren’t afraid to attack us here, they won’t be put off to attack on them while working.”

He can literally see the worry on Gee’s face when he talks about Mikey, Dan himself thinks about Phil and his heart goes down at the thought of these people attacking him. When they finally pull up in the front yard, he feels a mountain fall off his shoulders and he’s sure that other guys felt it too.

They all gather in a living room, drinking coffee and if the situation wasn’t so serious Dan’d have called it idealistic. But Gee and Frank are unbelievably white; Ray has spent last couple of hours talking to Christa and he, Phil and Mikey just lie on the sofa, Dan’s head on Phil’s shoulder and his toes under Mikey’s leg.

“We can’t stand against them,” Mikey says out of the blue and Dan startles, “Not enough weapons, not enough people.”

“We need to go down,” Ray adds. “I can go to Norway, you guys,” he turns to Frank and Gee, “to Italy, and I know that Kristin really wants to see Paris.”

“That leaves us,” Phil says. He shifts a little and Dan raises his head.

“You can go with either of us.”

“No,” Gerard says. “They can’t. Too many people and they’re wanted in the EU. If staying there than not for long, two weeks tops.”

“I was offered a case in London,” Dan says, “Then we can go somewhere warm.”

There’s strained silence in the room and Dan just wants to go out. He knows that it’s not forever, that sooner or later everything will die out and they come back. He just hates the fact that this large house on the outskirts of Newark has become his new home and someone wants to take it away from him.

“Maybe we can wait some time and see what happens?” Frank asks, nibbling on his thumbs, “Maybe it will pass and…”

“We can’t risk,” Gee says, standing up, “Risk is good when it has the point, when it’s the only way out. Not when you can stay alive and intact without risking.”

“That’s just stupid,” Frank growls.

“It’s not, Frank, we should,” Ray says and looks at the phone again. “Mikey, can you organize the passports and tickets?”

Mikey quietly opens the laptop and starts tapping.

“The documents will be ready tomorrow, Gabe can’t do faster than that. Your flight is tomorrow, ours in three days, Gee and Frank will fly out right after. Where are you going?” he turns to Dan.

“London. Going to visit home.”

Gerard sits down on the sofa next to Frank. Dan can see how jittery he is and it makes him nervous too.

“Careful with home visits, it’s a risk. I don’t think you would love another sentence, Phil,” Gee says.

“Sometimes risk is worth even though it has no point, Gee. And you know that.”

Gerard replies nothing. Dan thinks it’s because Phil’s right.

They leave the house in the morning, Ray for the airport and the others to the various motels. When they part, they hug each other and Dan finally realizes. It’s not the old house in Newark. It’s them. A family.

***

_Dan moves so fast he barely registers how he passes the waiting room and then the corridor. The police have already done the job for him – the floor is completely empty and Phil has turned off the cameras. Escaping school was harder._

_The lift rattles but Phil keeps surveillance in check and according to him everything is fine. Dan slips into a utility room, passes through to a leverage department and woola – he’s out next to a slightly beat up car. He sits down in the passenger seat._

_“Good, you didn’t lose your form back in America,” Phil says as he starts the car._

_“Yeah, another word and I will literally punch you in the face. This shit has taken too many of my nerves.”_

_“Well, I know a place or two in Sicily that has very welcoming people. They even speak English.”_

_“It’s not exactly good to visit someone without a present,” Dan snickers, as he plays out a recording from his mic, “Dear Jerry was kind enough to not only pay for our vacation, but also will help us to get back in USA. New equipment, new possibilities.”_

_“Gee will be happy,” Phil says and Dan smiles._

_They stop at a streetlight and Dan puts his hand on top of Phil's on the stick shift. Phil turns away but Dan knows he's smiling._

_“_ We _wil be happy,” Dan says, and Phil changes the gear._

_“We are.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story should have been dedicated to people who were my friends but left long before I even started writing.  
> This story should have eaten me.  
> This story should have been written better.  
> None of that happened. Thank you for sharing it with me.


End file.
